


If You Want, I Could Fly

by Ladyofwarandmercy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Evil Plans, F/M, Fake Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Mutant Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyofwarandmercy/pseuds/Ladyofwarandmercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-2x06 escape. Christian Ward fails to realize not only are Grant and Skye more dangerous than he imagines, they are more dangerous than he can imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For a Tuesday evening, Phil Coulson had managed to be done with his paperwork annoyingly early. Which meant he was just going to nose around for more work, and find himself neck-deep again. He sneaked a glance at his silent telephone and allowed himself a smirk, now that there were no witnesses. Rather than looking for trouble, Phil surfed for a nice online crossword puzzle. Finding Skye right now to explain things was just going to get him caught in her conflicted emotions where one Grant Ward was concerned, and it was just going to ruin his mood when the call came. As soon as he finished the last word on the puzzle, the phone beeped with a DC number. Coulson schooled his face into a neutral expression. No need to sound smug, now. Even if the caller can’t see you. He pulled a t-shirt onto the desk, in case he needed to stifle a giggle and picked up the phone.  
“You son of a bitch!” assaulted Coulson’s ears right away, in a Boston accent. Coulson allowed himself a brief grin before answering in his most innocent voice, “Did the prisoner transfer go okay?”  
“Screw you, you know it didn’t. Grant beat up six experienced Marine MPs, tied them up, and used the hijacked prison van to run the escorts off the road. You, Mister Coulson, were well aware he could do this.”  
“Were any of the MPs female?”  
“What the Hell does that have to do with anything?” The Senator’s voice jumped two octaves in fright.  
“I’m wondering if he used her lipstick to paint a smiley face on the guards.”  
The silence from the other end of the line was richer than Jemma’s pound cake. And all the answer Phil Coulson needed. Phil remembered better times, when over some good Scotch, Grant had told him about the particular humiliation Christian had inflicted on him with a $200 tube of lipstick and a jump rope. Grant’s pinky was forever crooked from the beating he got for “wasting” his mother’s lipstick. Coulson decided to break the silence.  
“Don’t blame me for what happened. If you knew Grant was SHIELD, you should have known the proper security arrangements to take to transfer him to government custody. You should have sent SEALS. You should have sent better restraints. You should have arranged for transport under sedation.”  
Senator Ward interrupted, “You only told me Grant was HYDRA three days ago. How was I supposed to know he was this dangerous?”  
“What do you think a specialist did for SHIELD, Senator? Shuffle papers, but do it extra-specially? Make the special sauce for the burgers in the cafeteria? SHIELD was established to handle paranormal, metasensory, and extraterrestrial phenomena. Grant Ward was trained to fight aliens hand-to-hand who can fart fireballs at him. You think a couple of MPs stood a chance? You didn’t _have_ to know he was HYDRA. Knowing his general job title within SHIELD should have caused you to have some respect for his abilities. But I guess you have always lacked respect for your brother. I’ll bet even as we speak, he’s figuring out a way to give you some much-needed respect for what he has become, thanks to you. Better not sleep in the same place twice for a while.”  
“And in the meantime, my brother’s escape means I will be very hindered in chasing you down personally for this, of course.” Coulson could feel the shaking rage through the phone line.  
“You were coming after us anyway, Ward. Now you have bigger things to deal with. Sleep tight.” With that, Coulson mashed the button, and hung up on Senator Ward.


	2. Chapter 2

Coulson allowed himself a chuckle, before he inhaled and his expression sobered. Now he had to deal with a broken-hearted girl who he feared would deny her heartbreak to her dying breath. As he approached the living quarters, he could see they had the TV on. Grant’s picture blared from the screen with a crawl underneath, “Escape Attempt Foiled. Sen. Ward’s HYDRA Brother Killed in Escape.” Coulson rolled his eyes for a moment and smiled, when he was sure nobody was watching him. The Senator had apparently decided the storyline of Grant dying in a failed escape attempt would be less scandalous than admitting to the escape, and having locals be on the lookout for Grant. Good. Phil happened to notice the MP on the news who supposedly shot Grant to death before Grant could get the drop on him had a very faint pinkish trace of a smiley face on his right cheek. 

Skye watched the report stony-faced, and the drink she had sitting in front of her on the coffee table untouched was mostly melted ice now. When Phil brought out some popcorn for the team, he almost took her aside and told her. But he thought better of it. He almost told her later that night, when she had pounded on the punching bag until her knuckles had split open, then hugged the bag and started crying. But he let Jemma take her back to her bunk. Grant could best keep Senator Ward busy and track down Skye’s father if Skye wasn’t tearing up the internet looking for him. And Coulson was sure Senator Ward would have been very interested to know a team member would have taken such an interest in Grant. Skye never cried in front of the others again after that night, but she was far from over it.

As the months wore on, color started to disappear from Skye’s wardrobe and from her personality. Even Melinda started to be concerned, even though she agreed with Phil’s reasoning behind not telling the rest of the team about Grant’s survival of the escape attempt. After that first night at the punching bag, Skye never cried or showed pain in public again. But Mack swore he could hear crying coming over the ventilation shafts late in the night. One mission, six months later, was the retrieval of an 084 in Boston. When Phil went to check on the rest of the team before turning in, Jemma was making all kinds of excuses why Skye couldn’t come to the door. She finally admitted that she and Skye had found Grant’s grave, and Skye was spending the night there. “She bloody well needs the closure, after everything that has happened. She loved him, Director. And until she finds another man willing to give up a career as a terrorist just to be with her, she won’t give any man I’ve set her up with a chance.” Mack and Fitz, who had opened their door across the hallway, nodded in agreement with Jemma. Unexpectedly for the younger team members, Coulson swore and radioed Bobbi and May to come immediately. Phil closed his eyes and inhaled carefully. Jemma, Fitz, and Mack didn’t know what they just did, and would not have done it if they had known. By the time Phil had composed himself, May and Bobbi came down the hallway with Lance and Trip in tow. “What’s the situation?” Bobbi asked. “Skye is spending the night at Grant’s grave.” Bobbi and Lance were nonplussed, until they took in May’s reaction. “Shit! shitshitshitshitshitSHIT!” Everyone looked at Coulson with alarm. “Grant survived the escape. I don’t know who or what is in that grave, but I’m pretty sure it is watched. Senator Ward did not want it widely known his brother survived, it would be a scandal or something, and I was willing to play along if it kept more eyes off Grant. We were having more than enough fun with HYDRA and the government, and we did not need Senator Ward in the mix. Grant has kept him too busy looking over his shoulder to mess with us. I especially did not want Skye to know Grant was alive, as I feared she would take some action that would paint a target on her back for the Senator. He would happily use her as a tool to flush his brother out. I didn’t tell the rest of you because I feared one of you would tell Skye.” Jemma grabbed her cell phone and texted furiously. When May looked at her, Jemma stated, “I’m just telling Skye I’m craving a late night snack run and to meet up at a diner we saw near the cemetery.” The phone buzzed and chittered with a return text, and the entire team sighed with relief. But Jemma looked puzzled. “Skye, um, said OK. Just OK.” Trip tensed and said, “I take it she’s usually more verbose?” Jemma nodded, and Trip nodded back. “Let’s go for some coffee, y’all. But let’s not make assumptions about who we will meet there.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jemma didn’t believe in God, so she had nobody to whom to pray that Skye was about to walk through the door of the diner. A Russian man with a broken nose who introduced himself as Dmitri sat down at Jemma’s table, and flirted with her. But he seemed to know nothing about the text. Dmitri was really starting to get creepy, and both May and Mack held Fitz down quietly at a nearby table. One of the construction workers in a ballcap and balaclava got up from the bar and tapped Dmitri on the shoulder. “I think the lady wants to be left alone.” Dmitri stood up and stared Balaclava in the eye. 

“ _Yob Tvoyu Mat!_ ” he shouted. Balaclava growled back, “ _Poshol na khui!_ ” And the fight would have been on by then, but Balaclava managed to knock Dmitri down with a single well-placed punch. Jemma could feel her heartbeat pound against her eardrums, as she realized who was likely underneath the balaclava. When the man in the balaclava sat across from her, he quietly passed Jemma a Derringer under the table. “You can shoot me later, Jemma. You said you would kill me the next time you saw me, and you have every reason to do so. But let’s get Skye away from my brother first. That’s all I ask, okay?” Jemma nodded quietly, and secreted the gun in her purse as the rest of the team joined Grant and her at the table. 

Everybody finished their coffee in silence, before adjourning to the cemetery. Fitz and Simmons quietly gathered evidence at a grave that still bore the metal plaque: “Grant Douglas Ward 1983-2014.” Coulson surreptitiously waved an instrument through the air, and backed the rest of the team and Grant off to a distance where he was sure they could not be overheard. Grant kept the balaclava on, but everybody could see the despair and anger in his wolf-like eyes. “I was too late, and the men moved too quickly. A sniper shot her with a dart, another team had her in a nondescript car, and were down the street before I was down the tree. I could only pick up the phone where the kidnap team dropped it, and go after the sniper. Unfortunately, he didn’t know much. He was paid in gold coins by a guy he described as “The Unabomber.” May nodded, and asked, “Did you get one of the coins off him?” Grant pulled a coin from his pocket, “Yep, and from the looks of it, it’s a coin available practically everywhere gold is sold or traded. Which seems to be everywhere nowadays with the popularity of ‘goldbugging.’ There are five coin shops within a mile of this location. Three had posters advertising this very coin type. But I think we all know who was ultimately behind this kidnapping. And he will be sure I am the one contacted. I am willing to do what it takes to get her out. I’ll go it alone if I have to, but some backup would be very helpful right now.”  
Lance Hunter shrugged in assent, Bobbi nodded. May, Trip, and Coulson looked at one another momentarily, then nodded in coordination. “One advantage we have is that your brother wasn’t counting on us being on the same page this quickly,” Coulson began, “I admit if you had called Jemma from Skye’s phone, we would have spent a lot more time trying to get the story from you and less time coming out to see it for ourselves. How do you think he will try to contact you?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated! More in a bit!

When Jemma had left, Skye checked the area around Grant’s grave for anything sharp or insectoid before rolling out her sleeping bag. She was glad she had washed her makeup off in the bathroom at the diner before coming here. After pulling some weeds, and leaving the bouquet she had bought in the (empty) flower vase next to the metal plaque, she used her sweater to remove some of the dirt that had accumulated on the plaque. And that was when it hit her. Grant was gone. Six feet above his grave would be the closest she would ever get to him again in this life. And his last memory of her would be when she had gloated about sending him off to his douchebag brother. No, wait—it would be watching him make that long walk down the hallway. Just watching him go to his death without even acknowledging his attempt to say goodbye. He probably died hating her. She’d hate her, right? And now that was all that was left. “I tried to hate you, Grant. I’m just not very good at it.” And then everything else was a blur of tears, as she curled up in the bag on his grave. A sharp pain hit her in the flank….

 

The first thing Skye noticed through what felt like bales of cotton in her brain was the smell. She was no longer in the graveyard. It smelled like freshly-cut wood and freshly-laid sheetrock. Someone had her. But who? Who _dared_ to desecrate Grant’s grave to pull her off it and into this place? She could not even mourn her former SO in peace. Grief had hardened into fury. As keyed-up as she was, she began to----feel? the camera in the small room, trained on her. Whoever had her had removed her heart rate monitor, but she felt about like she did when Ward first told her about her father being alive. Even that memory of Ward brought a pang of grief. She followed the “feeling” of the camera into the next room, and felt the signature of someone coming her way. Well, it’s about time she had some answers. The door burst open with two thugs and….Senator Ward? “Your brother is dead, asshole,” Skye began, “You can’t hurt him beyond the grave without some serious voodoo. And you don’t look the type to be into that. So what’s the deal, here? You gonna sell me to HYDRA? Send me back to Daddy Dearest after all the shit he pulled? Please do tell me you have something planned beyond pulling me away from your brother’s grave.” Senator Ward just smirked, “You have no idea, Skye. Really? Let’s just say you are going to help me take care of a thorn in my side, and then I’m coming for your precious Coulson.” Which just implied Coulson was not the thorn in question. Skye’s heart began to race. “By the way,” Ward continued, “That was a masterful job interrogating my brother there at the end. You just left him twisting in the wind.” With a smirk, the Senator and goons left the room. Skye backed herself up against a wall and tried not to faint. The Senator had just told her something he didn’t mean to. Idly, she remembered a line from the Princess Bride, “If you want, I could fly.” She covered her face with her hands, so the camera could not see her smile.

When Christian and his goons came back for Skye, there was a dangerous glint in her eye. Christian quipped to the men, as they locked a weighted vest around her, that a fracking bill was now doomed, what with all the slight temblors that were happening. Skye suppressed a smirk. She had just been practicing. 


	5. Chapter 5

Grant decided to go to the well and wait. It was where Christian would want him to go. He saw no sign of Skye there, thank God. But the lawn was still maintained, and everything was exactly the same as on that day. He tried to remember an old conversation with Melinda, after the incident with the Berserker Staff, and how holding the entire assembled staff did not break her emotionally. “I see it every day,” she told him. Grant doubted Christian would have the Staff, but he had trained his mind as well as his body every day. He saw this very well, just the way it was right at this moment, every day. He heard his brother drowning every day, until it became background noise in his mind. The ache never went away, but it was duller, more manageable now. The men approaching moved like pregnant cattle. Only the man at ten o’clock seemed to try to approach him quietly, so Grant picked his first target for when it all went down.

“Maybe I ought to throw you in there, and you can die like Thomas did.” Grant looked up from the well, schooling his face into a haunted look. Ten o’clock grabbed him first, and Grant was sure to knock him out, before letting the other goons grab him, tie him up ineptly, and drop him in the well. Christian called down after Grant, “I’m drowning your widow, too. Just not here.” Grant took a breath, plunged himself under the water, loosened the ropes, and began to climb out, as Christian’s jaw dropped. As the thugs prepared to fire at him, they found themselves distracted. Grant sighed with relief, and finished scrambling out of the well. He wasn’t that sure Trip and May would back him up. He had asked for Bobby and Lance. Trip had Christian subdued, hands behind his back, and May had a pistol trained on him. “Nice of you to join us, Ward. Now ask your brother where Skye is.” Grant walked up to Christian, where Trip was holding him, and gave him a good punch across the face. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to leave a bruise. “Chrissy-poo. You always hit us where the cameras wouldn’t show. Unlike you, I don’t give a flying damn about the cameras. I’ll happily ruin all that expensive plastic and dental surgery if you will tell me what you did with Skye. He made a symmetrical bruise on Christian’s other cheek to emphasize his point. “She’s drowning in the dark, just like Tommy. She can’t tread water long enough for you to find her!” Christian spit blood on Grant’s shirt, and a shot rang out between May and Trip’s position, and May turned to fire back. Christian broke free and ran away, as the team came under fire. Fortunately, a familiar van pulled up at that point, and the rest of the team boiled out. May would not toss Grant a gun, so he rolled over to a dropped thug to grab his, when he heard a cry. Jemma stood with her Derringer over a guy Grant had not even seen, who was now clutching at his buttock. The firing had ceased. “I thought that was meant for me, Jemma.” Simmons gave him a half-smile as she lowered the gun and placed it back in her purse. “It can be reloaded, you know. My promise to kill you still stands, Grant. I just have to think of the right circumstances, like the next time you betray us or hurt Skye.” 

Coulson walked up at that moment, “Speaking of Skye, were you able to get any information from the Senator before he got away?” Trip ran up, and extended an arm to help Grant get off the ground. “He just said she is drowning in the dark, and can’t tread water long enough.” Mack charged out of the van, “WATER TOWER! Fitz says she’s probably in a water tower!” May looked confused, “Can’t she just float and save her energy?” “Not if they put something weighted on her, “ Trip replied.


	6. Chapter 6

Skye was getting tired. She may have been trained by SHIELD’s and (it turned out) HYDRA’s best Specialists, but she was too inexperienced to figure out the lock that kept the weighted vest around her chest, and the weight was just enough to keep her from being able to float and breathe. She was forced to tread water in order to keep her head above the water in the water tower. But the heart rate and the adrenaline were actually helpful in that she could sense the entire tower, and the fact that Senator Douchebag’s thugs had finally driven away. She sensed no telemetry other than the camera on the roof, which only plugged into a Flash drive. Well, if her time with SHIELD taught her anything, it was that sometimes the damsel in distress had to rescue herself. Maybe Grant being alive was just her wishful thinking. Maybe once she shook the tower down, or punctured a hole, she’d land gently enough to get away. Either way, the surf was about to be up big time in here. So Skye breathed quickly, almost to the point of fainting, as she pushed with her mind (as best she could describe it), and the water began to get choppy. 

The team had ultimately split into individual members to cover as many water towers in the Boston area as possible. But Grant had an idea, as soon as Mack had told them what Fitz said about a water tower. He made sure he was assigned to this very area. Memories of his father dangling him over the railing of this particular water tower rushed over him momentarily as he saw it again, but he saw it was….shaking? He thought for a moment how he would climb the slippery ladder while the tower was bucking, when two of the supports buckled, and the tower came down. “SKYE!” he screamed, as the tank broke open like an egg, splashing near his car. 

 

Grant sloshed through the water towards the tank’s remains, hoping against hope. He saw a spot of purple and ran towards it. Skye was face-down on a piece of tank, and for a moment, Grant was afraid she had drowned, until he heard a moan. Skye tried to roll over, pushing herself up with both hands, but she grabbed her left elbow. Grant reached Skye, and rolled her over gently. He pushed her head to the side. She coughed up a little water, then looked up at him, smiled, then tried to ineptly pull him towards her. “You’re alive! You’re okay! You’re here!” Grant couldn’t help but grin back at her like a goof. “I could say the same, Skye. You ready to get going? Someone’s going to come this way pretty soon.” Skye shook her head, “Left ankle and right knee hurt too much. I can’t walk.” Grant scooped her up, and carried her bridal-style to the car. “I can carry you, but sticking around long enough to answer questions is my bigger problem. It’s going to be a bit of a drive, but let’s go to one of my safe houses, and get you patched up!” When they reached the car, Grant cut the locks on the weighted vest, helped Skye out of it, and looked the other way, as Skye took her bra off. “The underwire was stabbing me.” She also tossed the spare panties in her pocket on the ground next to the bra. “That also tells the team I went willingly.” Grant smiled and quirked his eyebrows, but Skye shook her head. “Sorry, I’m like clockwork. And I don’t think you have pads and tampons in your medical kit.” Grant looked disappointed, but he ran to his side of the car, and they sped off.

An hour later, Jemma poked the underwire back in the discarded bra, as Coulson tried to reassure May, “The worst thing I could see Ward doing to Skye is sending her back to us pregnant.” May and Simmons looked at each other, shook their heads, and suppressed giggles. “No danger of that, Phil. Not for another…two weeks?” May looked at Simmons, who nodded to confirm. Fitz slapped his right palm over his face and blushed a bit. Then he began to guffaw. Bobbi held up the unflattering cotton panties, pointed at them, quirked her eyebrows at a giggling Jemma, who nodded. “Oh no! That’s worse than that old tampon commercial on YouTube with the bride.” Bobbi began to chuckle, as Lance looked at Trip with a sympathetic look on his face. Trip shrugged. “Red wings. I’m just sayin’.” The whole team chuckled, and made their way back to the Playground. They figured Skye would call when she was ready.


	7. Chapter 7

When they reached Westchester County in New York, some time after dinner, Grant pulled in front of an upper-middle-class home, pushed a button on a garage door opener, and drove into what looked like a garage. When the door was down, the workbench disappeared like the hologram it was, to be replaced by something that looked like a dentist’s chair. Grant placed her gently in the chair, and found what looked like an old-fashioned cordless phone. 

When the other end picked up, Grant began, “Coulson? It may be a few days before you get Skye back. Field Evaluation Station…” Grant looked up at a number “Two-Eight-Bravo is going to transmit telemetry now on Skye’s condition. That way, you know I am not lying or holding Skye hostage. She is not in any condition for me to leave her in the field for pickup by you, and my staying with her when you come for her is…inadvisable. I’m not giving you another chance to sell me to my brother for a pretty speech. Please advise on care instructions, and expect further communications only when Skye is fit for travel.” What sounded like Jemma’s voice murmured in the speaker of the phone. Grant nodded, and “mmm, hmm”-ed at the things she said, thanked Jemma, then hung up the phone. Grant ran for what looked like storage lockers, pulled out what looked like a splint for her ankle, and a brace for her elbow. “What about my right knee, Grant? It hurts!” Grant shook his head and smiled, “It’s a big bruise. A deep one to be sure, and it hurts a lot, but in about 48 hours, you will find it looks worse than it is. Any sort of wrap on it would actually hurt more than letting it be. I have a small amount of pain pills and a sedative. They should let you sleep while we make our way to my safe house.” As he splinted her ankle and elbow, Skye asked, “Is this a SHIELD safe house or a HYDRA safe house?” “Both and neither. Specialists are expected to purchase some off-the-books resources. Sometimes you just can’t trust anybody. The only other person to ever use this safe house was Garrett. And well, he’s gone. Come on, we have a long journey ahead of us.” With that, Grant picked Skye up, placed her back in the car, then twisted a couple of wires together in the garage door, forcing it to open. He closed the door with the door opener, then threw it out into the lawn as they drove off. Skye took the pills with the remnants of the Coke from her meal, then let Grant inject her with the sedative.

When Skye woke up, she was propped up on cushions in a nice double bed, with her left ankle and right knee elevated. A tray was next to her that she could pull in front of her in the bed. It had some granola bars, a banana, a bottle of water, and a small bottle of store-brand “iced coffee.” Knowing how Grant liked to cook, this was a sign he was way too tired when he was finally done driving them to wherever this place was, and making a run to the store for all the pillows and fresh food. She looked to her left to find Grant curled up in the bed beside her, hand reaching for her, but sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. A number of bags from the local market lay next to the bed. She could see what looked like clothing peeking out. Skye hated to wake Grant, but she needed to go to the bathroom. As soon as she tried to move, Grant was awake, and rushing to her side of the bed. He helped her into a sitting position, and had her try to walk. The splint on her ankle was well-padded, and the swelling in her knee had gone down, so she didn’t need that much help. “ _You!_ Go back to bed. I’m walking, okay? You left me more than enough breakfast, and you can cook a Thanksgiving feast if you want when you are rested. But dammit, take care of yourself!” Grant nodded, and went back to his side of the bed. Skye went to the bathroom, crawled back in the bed, ate the breakfast on the tray, and found a book in one of the bags to read while she waited for Grant to wake up. When he woke up, Grant went straight into his workout regime. He then stripped down to his boxers and walked towards the bathroom. She remembered seeing Grant’s routine on the closed-circuit camera from his cell, but watching it in real life was an even better show. 

When Grant came back out, smelling like wet hair and body wash, wrapped only in a towel, Skye swore her mouth was so dry she could not talk. He kissed her on the top of her head, then walked over to one of the larger bags, and removed a box from it. He assembled a shower chair and put it in the bathroom for her. “Your turn, Skye. I don’t think you remember anything you told me last night, and the only advantage I took from it was finding out the brands of all the stuff you like to use. You admitted the body wash was just something you wanted to try, so I bought something hypoallergenic as well, just in case. Can you figure out the latches on that brace, or do you need help?” Skye tried, but the wrench in her elbow meant she didn’t have the strength in her left arm. Grant smiled, unlatched the brace, carried her into the shower, and took her clothes as she took them off. He stayed outside the translucent shower door to make sure she didn’t fall.

“You know, there’s room for two in here?” Skye called over the fogged door, as she started to get the temperature right. She could hear Grant chuckle. “Don’t you want our first time to be, you know, more perfect? No bad ankles and knees, no Aunt Flo, a nice dinner, silk sheets and all that?” Skye finished rinsing her hair before answering. “Maybe back when I was a virgin. Maybe back when you were a virgin. But, um, neither of us are virgins here, Grant. You just saved my life.” Grant called back, “No, _you_ saved your life. I just kept my brother from being able to re-capture you afterwards.”   
“You know, Grant, until I hooked up with SHIELD, I never realized why soldiers were such horndogs. I mean, even in the era before birth control. If you survived a fight like we just had, you just defied the Grim Reaper. Sex is like giving the Reaper the bird after kicking his ass!” Grant chuckled for a minute. “I can’t say you are wrong. But Skye, I want more than just sex with you. If we made love right here, right now, I don’t think I could hand you back to Coulson in a few days all that easily. And I want to make love to you, not just have sex. Handing you back afterwards would be like chopping off my right arm.” Skye sputtered through the flow as she rinsed off her conditioner, “Maybe you’ll feel what I felt these past six months believing you were dead, Grant!” Grant was silent for a minute, Skye continued, “Maybe in our line of work there won’t _be_ some perfect time. Maybe we won’t have silk sheets and a gourmet dinner beforehand. Maybe one of us would die first before that happens.” There were tears in Skye’s voice. The shower door creaked open, and Grant stepped naked into the shower with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, y'all, it's rated M, not E! But yes, they do the frickle frackle.


	8. Chapter 8

After they made love, Skye and Grant cleaned up, got dressed, and cuddled on the bed for a few minutes. She really thought somewhere inside that finally bedding Grant might actually make the sexual tensions go away. But after their session in the shower, Skye was starting to question whether going back to the team was something she really wanted. Why did she have to fall in love with a HYDRA agent? Until Grant’s finger nudged her chin up to look at him, she had not realized she had said that last thought aloud. “Because something wonderful and profound happened when we met, Skye. Even if I didn’t see it for what it was at first.”   
“Is that why you were with May?”  
“Yes, actually. I had convinced myself that what I was feeling was due to my involuntary celibacy at that time. I figured I could keep my relationship with you on a professional level if I was getting sex somewhere else.”  
“Grant, stop me if I’m going too far with this, but from what I read of your SO relationship with Garrett, he crossed a whole lot of lines with you. What made you so worried about crossing lines with me? Because, actually, you were pretty awesome as an SO, all that HYDRA business aside.”

Grant kissed her on top of her head, then rolled away and sat up. “I get compared to Romanoff a lot. She and I are, were, whatever, the best. And for the same reason. Do you like Jackie Chan movies? Skye smiled, and pulled on Grant’s shirt to get his help sitting up next to him. “Jackie Chan is one of my favorites! I hope this place has a DVD or two of Jackie Chan flicks! Did you know he does all his own stunts?” Grant looked at her, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Jackie Chan in interviews talked a lot about how he got as good as he was. He spent his childhood in a school for performers of Peking Opera. One could describe it as practically child abuse. In Russia, they trained ballerinas from a very young age, and the Red Room recruited a nine-year-old Natasha Romanoff from one of the Russian ballet schools. John Garrett found me as a very angry fifteen-year-old kid facing a life sentence for attempted murder of my brother. You, on the other hand, were a 25-year-old woman who voluntarily chose to take up with SHIELD in hopes of finding out what happened to your parents. You _chose_ your life as a grownup capable of making her own decisions. What wasn’t necessarily respected in me I respect in you. And that meant keeping our boundaries intact while I was your SO. I wanted you to be the best Specialist you can be, without having to pay the price I did to get where I am today.” Grant smiled a little and looked distant for a moment. 

“The first clue I got that something else was happening wasn’t actually when you were shot. It was the week before, after I had gone to the doctor for my annual checkup. Everything was all normal, and I was getting ready to leave, when Doctor Rabinowitz grabbed my shoulders, pulled me into a bear hug, and said, ‘ _Mazel Tov!_ ’ Naturally, I was confused. But I remembered. I had somewhat of a reputation among the doctors for pestering them for a vasectomy. I didn’t want to inflict my childhood on anybody, especially any kids of my own. But the doctors were all, ‘oh, you’re too young, you’ll meet someone in a few years, then it will be a pain in the neck to get a reversal!’ It was the first time I didn’t have anything prepared for my argument with the doctors since the Academy. Doctor Rabinowitz was the last guy they pulled from the wreckage of the Triskelion. He’s in Texas now, I think. Anyway, I realized that as fun as sex was with Melinda, I wanted that and more with you. You were so close to qualifying, and I was going to ask you out when you got the badge. I was afraid if I had gotten fixed, you wouldn’t take me seriously. And I also thought you’d make a good mother someday. So why should some _other_ guy get to have that with you? But…um…Then Quinn shot you. And they said you weren’t going to make it. John and I communicated through my book reports. You know, when he’d have me read a book, he’d have me submit a report. I’d just tell him other stuff too, like in a code…” Skye nodded, “May had me read those messages, Grant. Were you really planning on going off somewhere and dying if I didn’t make it? Your reports at the time had a lot of telling Garrett goodbye.” Grant nodded, sadly. “You lived, so I didn’t do anything rash.” Skye inhaled sharply and pierced Grant with a look. “But that’s when Garrett showed up. Oh my God. Okay, fine. The L-Word got breached. You love me and dammit, I love you, Grant Ward. But in our line of work, there is no guarantee you’ll see tomorrow. If it was all that important to me to die in my bed an old woman, I’d run a knitting store or something. I don’t want you eating a bullet if something happens to me, okay, Grant?” Grant held her closer and shook his head. “I got over killing myself in the cell. I can’t say that if you died, I wouldn’t blame myself for not being there. I can’t say I’d be all that careful on missions after such a thing. But I won’t kill myself deliberately. The woman I love,” he punctuated with a kiss, “would not want me to do that. On a happier note, the last thing I ate was some fried chicken from a truck stop at 2:30 this morning. It is now 10:30, and I am starving. That Thanksgiving thing you said? I think we can whip something up in the kitchen if we work together…”

The next week passed in much the same way: Therapy for her damaged joints, lovemaking, helping Grant put away his shopping, long talks, and Jackie Chan movies. Soon, far too soon, Skye was mobile enough that Grant would feel safe leaving her alone for the time it would take the team to pick her up. “Skye, all I can give you at this point in my life is a life on the run. I have a lot of sins to atone for, and when I do, I want to find you and build that life with you that you deserve. In the meantime, you’d blame yourself if anything happened to the team. So I’m going to call Coulson, and drop you off at a nearby Shoney’s.” Skye nodded. Part of her wanted that life on the run, as long as Grant was there. But Grant was right. She’d blame herself if something happened to the team she could have in any way prevented. They made love one more time, then Grant picked up the phone as Skye rested her head on his chest.

“Hello, Coulson. I’m keeping my promise. Skye’s knee and elbow are much better now. Her ankle needs more time, but she should be able to wait for you… Dallas? No. Nowhere near there… Really? On video and everything? I had to pick up a few things, but neither Skye nor I have left the safe house since. And again, we are nowhere near Dallas... I’ll get Skye back to you, but I’m _not_ letting you throw me back in that vault. You don’t need me… What? Are you serious? Yeah, I’m a nicer guy than my brother. That’s not exactly hard to do, you know… Yeah, I think my sister had a baby before Christian had her committed… No, she never told me who the father was… Okay, I will meet you day after tomorrow inside the bluebonnet entrance at Grapevine Mills.” Grant looked at the phone as if it had bitten him, and pressed the END button. He kissed Skye, pulled a key from the belt loop of the pants on the floor, opened a hidden door, and brought out a laptop. “Skye, we’re going to need to fly into Austin or Oklahoma City from Raleigh-Durham International, then rent a car to drive to Dallas. DFW is not, I repeat, NOT an option. Not even as a layover. Coulson says there was an apparent jailbreak of a Gifted person from the HYDRA facility in Dallas. DFW is likely to be full of HYDRA personnel getting the Duck out of Fodge, and the odds of us being recognized are too great. Yes, I did say ‘us.’ The Gifted person in question… might be my nephew.”


	9. Chapter 9

Grant felt nervous about leaving Skye alone on the bench near the mall entrance, but that breakfast taco Skye insisted on grabbing on their way out of Austin had worked its way through Grant’s system. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to be right back. A man in a bulky jacket followed him to the bathroom. Grant could see from the blush on the man’s cheek that he was not a native. Texans can’t take a little cold. But then again, Grant mused, a Texan would say a Yankee like him couldn’t take a little heat. And Bulky Jacket was, like Grant, from a colder part of the world. The jacket was more a disguise than a hedge against a mere 45 degree October day. Nobody else seemed to enter the bathroom, and once the last civilian left, Grant could hear the lock click on the men’s room door. 

“I just want to talk, son,” Bulky Jacket begun, “You can put your gun away. I think we are trying to meet with the same people. At the very least, we are trying to meet with you and your companion. My associate is talking with her now. I said, put the gun away. Our intentions are the same as yours. Namely, the interests of a certain minor who bears a strong family resemblance to you. We have him with us.” Grant finished quickly and burst out of his stall. Bulky Jacket was none other than Steve Rogers with his hair dyed a dark brown. Grant relaxed and washed his hands. If the kid was hanging with Captain America, he was likely very safe. Steve put his Cowboys ballcap back on, and zipped the bulky jacket back up. The two of them walked back towards Skye. Steve removed the “Restroom Closed” sign from the door. When the ambient noise would be too much for idle ears to pick up their conversation, Steve continued, “I thought the HYDRA guy ‘Tash and I captured and interrogated was lying when he said Coulson was in charge at SHIELD now. I hear he, ah, took a trip to TAHITI, if you know what I mean.” Grant gave Steve a “you don’t know the half of it” look. “He kept me in a cage for six months after my arrest at Cybertek. Unless you lived under a rock, you know he was handing me back to my brother. Dude, he _knew_ all the crap Christian did to my siblings and me as a kid. He goddamn knew. I lied about a lot of stuff, but I didn’t lie about that. He’s sketching all the stuff Garrett was sketching in the end.” Steve nodded, “That’s what I was afraid of.” Steve stopped, texted something on his phone, handed a business card to Grant, then melted back into the crowd before Grant turned the corner where he would be visible from Skye’s position. Jemma was already fussing over her, as the others surrounded her. Grant thought of blending back into the crowd, but May spotted him. Too late now. Grant shuffled up to the old team. Skye caught his eye. Grant winked and quickly hefted an invisible shield as Skye’s right hand crawled quickly up Skye’s arm. After exchanging pleasantries, they all piled into a heavily-shaded SUV and headed, it turned out, to Mack’s grandmother’s house in Oak Cliff. Everyone put up the hoods of their hoodies and tucked their hands into the sleeves as Mack put the SUV up on blocks. As they entered the house, an elderly black woman had just put a steaming casserole dish of macaroni and cheese on a trivet on a table already overloaded with food. Coulson smiled, “This is why we didn’t stop for food on our way over here. The best Texan food is cooked at home.” “Amen,” Trip agreed, as they all sat around the table. Kermesha Mackenzie insisted they all say grace before dinner, before she retired to her bedroom, understanding her grandson and his friends had a lot to talk about.

After a hearty dinner, May placed a laptop in front of Skye and Ward, with a video queued up. “Lance, it turns out, is extremely talented at recruiting insiders.” Hunter waved slightly at Grant as an introduction. Grant nodded in return. “This insider smuggled a camera into HYDRA’s Dallas-area facility, in Garland to be precise, and posted this for him before leaving town. Our accommodations here are a bit crowded, and we have to stay indoors mostly. We kind of stand out, and we don’t want neighborhood gossip reaching the wrong ears. But even the gangbangers are afraid of Kermesha, and Mack’s the only grandkid of hers HYDRA could credibly threaten. We can talk freely here.” She hit the “play” button with a click of the trackpad:

_A teenaged boy sat in a chair in an interrogation room. He was a typical neo-Goth kid. His dyed-black hair appeared straightened into spikes by a flat iron, and his eyeliner reminded Grant uncomfortably of footage of the Winter Soldier. But the eyes that peeked out from the smudged eyeliner held a cleverness and life rendered absent in the Winter Soldier. In a blink, as the door rattled open, the boy transformed…into the late Senator Maynard Grant Ward._ Grant reacted with a gasp. _On the video, the still-living Senator Christian Maynard Ward walked up to the dead man. “Why, Uncle Christian. It looks like you have a brand-new thing to fear.” In an instant, the father was gone, replaced by Grant in an orange uniform, who quickly slipped out of his shackles and attacked. The footage cut away, as the camera holder ran down some stairs. When the footage of the fugitive picked up again, “Grant” ran across a team of HYDRA soldiers headed up by Christian’s head of security. Quickly, “Grant” turned into “Skye.” The building started to shake, and the cameraman fell down When he got back up, a man in green armor was heading up a new batch of HYDRA soldiers to apprehend the shapeshifting kid. The cameraman ran up to join the fray. “Skye” gave Green Armor a vulpine grin, and a red, white, and blue shield obscured the camera, as it punched the cameraman. The rest of the video was of the ceiling, where a crawl appeared. “The kid got away. They never gave me a name. They just called him Trauma.”_

Coulson closed the lid of the laptop as the video ended. “This ‘Trauma’ is apparently between thirteen and sixteen years of age. Unless this was something else Garrett and HYDRA faked about your past, you were in juvie or the woods at that time, and still a virgin. Your brother Thomas is dead, and even if he weren’t he would have not yet gone through puberty. That left Christian or Rose as ‘Trauma’s’ parent. Christian has always had a problem keeping it in his pants, but none of the women have been anywhere near the Index. Rose’s last boyfriend, on the other hand…”

Coulson made his offer, and Grant had to think about it. Later that night, the SUV dropped Grant and Skye at the mall. They drove to downtown Fort Worth, parked near the Convention Center, and had a drink after Grant grabbed another burner phone from where he had cached it. When he was sure they were not being watched, and scanned for listening devices, Grant texted the number from the business card, then they took a cab to a nearby hotel, waited for the cab to leave, then walked to their actual hotel. Before hitting the sack, Grant stuck masking tape on each identical phone, writing “S&N” on one, and “PC&Crew” on the other. That being done, they ripped one another’s clothes off and had some loud, thoroughly enjoyable sex. Afterwards, as Skye got the shower ready, Grant scanned the room for electronic bugs, then deadbolted the main door, and leaned a chair into the door connecting their suite to the one next door. When they got out of the shower, Grant scanned again, then turned on the TV. “Okay, Skye. Nothing high-tech in this room, the TV should take care of the low-tech, and our acting so normal won’t make any tech interested in little old us. Captain Rogers texted back while we were in the shower. The kid wants to meet us, and hear what we have to say. He also wants to hit something called The Church tomorrow night.” Skye shook her head. “ _Bad_ idea. If I were HYDRA, and some Goth kid just fought his way out of my custody, the first place I think he would go would be the street. And any Goth kid in Dallas, or Texas for that matter, would try to put in an appearance at the Lizard Lounge to find more of his kind. If I were HYDRA, that place would be watched like a hawk.” Grant texted the gist of what Skye told him, then snickered at the response, and quickly texted back. “He said that Steve and Natasha have him dressing like a prep and staying in what he calls Chuck-E-Cheese Hell. I told him what you would, that he needs to play along, at least until we get him out of the area.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter with an epilogue

The team was expecting to meet Ward and Skye at the entrance to the Dallas Zoo three days later, but the man in the dark jacket next to Ward looked nothing like Skye. Coulson almost ran off the road when the man introduced himself after quietly following Ward into the car.

“Hello, Phil,” Steve Rogers began, “It is nice to see you among the living again. Mister Ward and I have come to an agreement. You see, when Terrance Ward, that’s the kid’s name, broke out of the HYDRA facility, Natasha and I happened to be staking it out. Imagine my surprise to see me running out in my old fatigues and holding that old shield. He ran in my direction, so I tackled him. He then turned into the Red Skull, and we fought for a bit. He got away, ran into Natasha, turned into some guy from her past, and well, when you get Natasha scared, she gets mad. Whatever that guy was, Natasha apparently knew him a long time ago, before she really knew how to fight. She almost finished him when he turned into some kid. We got him out and to where we were staying, at some kiddie resort. Hey, Natasha figured it would be the last place HYDRA agents bugging out would look for us. Because of his, uh, unique dress sense, and his liking of black eyeliner, all we had to do was split a bottle of hair dye, make him wash his face, and put on some regular clothes. He whined, but when he looked at himself in the mirror, even he didn’t recognize him. It’s a good thing we found him. He was planning to hit a club and hook up with his fellow music fans to get him out of town. Exactly what HYDRA would expect him to do. We reached out to Grant, here, when Terrence told us what he saw in his uncle’s mind. Terrence Ward is a telepathic shapeshifter. And he senses fear. He’s a very powerful Gifted, which is why Grant has agreed to your idea for that special school and your working to get custody transferred away from his brother. He only asks one thing.” Steve motioned for Grant to pick up his part.

“Terry lived most of his life under my brother’s thumb. He’s never even really been hunting, fishing, camping, or even to an amusement park. He’s had some good tutors and some not-so-good tutors, but he’s lived his life as either a painfully sheltered child or an occasional weapon for HYDRA. I thought given the circumstances of my sister getting pregnant that either Christian forced her to get an abortion, or she gave the kid up. I never dreamed he was alive and wanting to have anything to do with me. What I want is to have custody and access to my nephew. He’s four years shy of being a legal adult. And then nobody can make him go anywhere he doesn’t want to go. I’d prefer the last four years of his childhood be ones where he had some kind of father figure in his life. I want for him what….I never really had. The closest thing I had to a father figure was Garrett. But I don’t want Terry to do anything for me but help me practice my fathering skills. I don’t need a protector or a minion. I don’t care what he can do for me. I just want him to have someone to call before he ends up living in a van somewhere.” 

Coulson and May looked at each other. Then almost in unison, they nodded. “Good, we are agreed then? Skye, Natasha, and Terry are in transit to one of my safe houses, and I am to meet them tomorrow night.” They made it back to the house on Oak Cliff, Coulson handed Ward the paperwork for the adoption and the boarding school, and both Grant and Steve stayed for dinner. 

TEN YEARS LATER:

The nightclub was packed that night, with a slightly older and stodgier crowd than usual. But even the “suits” danced and head-banged as much as their older bodies would let them. The band, comprised of local grad students, was actually very good. The older group was centered around Grant Ward in a paper top hat, with the word “GROOM” hand-painted with glitter. All the waiters and waitresses had to come up and give the groom hugs, as they all seemed to know him. After the band finished the last song, the lead singer and guitarist fished out a black cowboy hat with metal studs in the shape of a skull, he tapped the mike and began:

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to switch genres for a moment, here. My Uncle Grant, who is finally making an honest woman of my Aunt Skye, like, three kids later…” The crowd cheered loudly for thirty seconds, then the singer continued, “He got me out of a very bad place.” Grant shouted back, “You got yourself out, I just kept you from having to go back.” The crowd cheered again. Terry continued, “Indeed, it’s true. But he adopted me, and we did all kinds of dorky stuff like paintball and fishing. Stuff nobody let me do before. But anyhoo, when I was in the car with my Aunt Skye and this other lady, we were having to keep off the main roads. The car had a whole music collection in it, but it was all country.” The crowd groaned in sympathy. “My choices for something to listen to were country, or country interspersed with commercials and farm reports.” A chuckle rose from the crowd. “I grew to appreciate country music, and it always brings me back to the best road trip I ever had. I’m going to do a cover of the song I fell in love with on that car trip. Every time I hear it, I think of Uncle Grant and Aunt Skye. They are my favorite outlaws, and I pretty much owe them everything. I’m going to have to leave after this song, because I’m my uncle’s Best Man, and I need my beauty rest.” Another loud, long cheer erupted. “Back to that music collection. Now this dude, he had taste. We’re talking Johnny Cash,” The crowd cheered wildly, “We are talking Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, George Strait, and…..ROBERT EARL KEEN!” With that, he and the bassist started strumming the introduction:

_“Sherry was a waitress at the only joint in town_  
 _She had a reputation as a girl who’d been around_  
 _Down Main Street after midnight with a brand new pack of cigs_  
 _A fresh one hanging from her lips a beer between her legs_  
 _She’d ride down to the river and meet with all her friends_  
 _The road goes on forever and the party never ends…..”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the song or its lyrics, but look it up on YouTube sometime. It's worth a listen. And yes, Terrence knows "that other lady" was Natasha. This is just something he wasn't going to shout about on a microphone in a night club.


End file.
